by Nancy CoCo
“You have something going with Chef Thomas, don’t you? It’s got to be the only reason he picked you to be in his show.” Her expression was one of cold disdain, her nose in the air as she looked down at me.
“Chef Thomas was my mentor,” I said. “I didn’t hide that. Why are you so upset anyway? I understand you’re the chief pastry chef at the Grander Hotel. Congrats, by the way.” I took hold of the door handle. “I’ve got to go in, they’re waiting for me.”
“He should have had auditions.” Tammy followed me inside. “I have more years’ experience than any other member of this so-called cast. I’ve done some digging and most of these people aren’t even qualified to be here.” She followed me as I kept walking.
“Seriously, Tammy? A woman has died. Just put in your application for next year’s show.” I stopped her in the hall. “Besides, it’s not like the Grander Hotel needs the publicity.”
“This isn’t about the Grander.” She waved her hand. “This is about honor. Mackinac is the fudge capital of the world. We need a true local in this contest to show people why we’re the best.”
“Fine,” I said to get her to quit following me. “There’s Bob Salinger. He’s the producer. You really should be talking to him about this.”
“I will!” She stormed off toward poor Bob.
The woman was trouble on wheels. I was so swamped I didn’t have time to argue over why I was in the show. Right now I was very close to saying, “Fine, have at it. I quit.”
CHAPTER 20
“Cathy’s passing has been a great loss for us,” Brian Bere, the associate producer said. He had a ball cap across his heart and his head bent. “A moment of silence, please, for our girl, Cathy.”
The cast and crew were all herded into the dressing room. There were about thirty of us all told. I noticed that Jabar and Tony were holding on to each other with tears running down their cheeks. Emily, the first cast member to be let go, was also here. It was a solemn gathering.
“Thank you,” Brian said. He wore a tan T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts in camouflage green. His calves were bare and his sockless feet were encased in classic boat shoes. “Now, I know you are all wondering where do we go from here?” He gave a dramatic pause. “The producers and directors feel that as long as no one is in direct harm, Cathy would want us to go on.”
There was a round of applause from everyone whose summer paychecks depended on the show going to air.
“With Cathy gone, there is no need for an elimination episode. It’s been decided that each of you will go home for twenty-four hours and a small camera crew will go with you. You are to show off your hometown and the people who support you.”
“Awesome,” I said. I could use twenty-four hours of respite from taping.
“I’m sorry but that’s not going to happen for a while,” Rex said as he came into the room.
The sound of all thirty of us protesting was close to deafening. Rex put his hands in the air with a signal to stop. When that didn’t work, he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled one short, incredibly loud burst.
The room went quiet in an amazing amount of time.
“The preliminary report is that Cathy Unger was poisoned,” Rex said. “We need everyone who was here the night she was murdered to come to the station and be interviewed.”
“The show will provide a lawyer,” Brian said. “Don’t say anything until the lawyer gets here. I don’t think I need to remind you that you are all under contract. Our contract has withstood one lawsuit. Don’t think for a moment it won’t withstand another.”
I looked from Brian to Rex and back. Brian looked thin and young in comparison. Rex’s gorgeous blue eyes studied the cast and crew as if he could ferret out a killer simply by looking at them. Brian, on the other hand, turned away from us and dialed a number on his cell phone.
Whoever Brian spoke to was not happy. The associate producer spent a long time explaining and reexplaining what was going on. Finally he turned around.
“Go to hair and makeup,” he said. “We’re going to shoot. Peter, when you’re done see me. We need to figure out what we’re going to shoot for this episode.”
“Wait,” I said. “I thought this was only a team meet. I didn’t know we would be shooting in the daylight.”
“That phone call was to the guys footing the bill for this show. If you want to get paid, you will stop asking questions and go to hair and make-up as I said.” Brian gave me the evil eye.
I held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, I just need to let people know where I am.”
“Don’t take too long,” Brian said. “Time is money.”
“Keep in mind, I will be asking you individually to come down to the police station to be interviewed,” Rex said. Officer Lasko entered the room looking very official and as intimidating as a woman with a gun could look. “In the meantime, do not talk about what happened that night. I don’t want my reports to be a group memory.” He looked us over one more time. “Officer Lasko will remain with you while you tape the show.” He waved his hand toward her. “Keep yourselves busy and always in view and hopefully we can get the interviews done as quickly and quietly as possible. First up is Tony Sergeant. Come with me, please.” Rex nodded toward the big chef.
Brian put a hand on Tony’s bicep. “Remember, don’t say a word until our lawyer gets there.”
“How long will that be?” Rex asked, his hand on his hip belt.
“He’s flying in from Chicago,” Brian said. “So no more than an hour.”
“Fine,” Rex said. “I’ll send someone over to get him in one hour.” Rex turned back to the room. “Remember, do not talk to anyone about Cathy. I need independent stories.”
“They won’t,” Officer Lasko said, her gaze intent. “I’ll make sure.”
Wardrobe and makeup were slow, quiet affairs. I had spoken to Jenn. She promised to keep things running at the MacMurphy in my absence. A half an hour from our initial meeting, Brian came in with script pages for everyone.
“Here’s the storyline for tonight. When we shoot the at-home visit, we’ll air it with a dedication to Cathy. This taping will air the following week.”
I looked at my part. “Wait, we break into teams of two except for me?”
Brian nodded. “We need to see if you can pull off crazy fudge or if last night’s fudge was just a fluke.” He raised an eyebrow and looked me straight in the eye. “The choice is up to you.”
“I thought there wasn’t an elimination this week.”
His eyes were serious. “We’re shooting for next week.”
“Oh.” I looked at my part. “Okay.”
They came and took Tony to the police station while we were blocking and staging the next competition.
Once again we were all standing behind two marble-topped fudge tables.
“Welcome chefs,” Peter said when the cameras rolled. I noted that the other two judges were missing. “Today’s challenge will be judged on how you work through a difficult order. I will be the only judge tonight. You must impress me with your negotiation skills and your ability to substitute when an ingredient goes missing from your work area.
“As an extra challenge, the pantry has been stocked with minimal ingredients. Everything is first come, first served. It will be up to you whether you want to work together or apart.”
The cameras took in our looks of horror and fear. There were certain key ingredients needed in every fudge base. “On your mark, get set, go!”
We rushed to the pantry. Tim was the first guy inside and swept as much as possible into his arms. That left precious little for the remaining staff. Jon went through and snatched up a giant grouping of extras. The two mean girls, Amber and Erin, worked in tandem as well, grabbing the ingredients they needed from opposite ends of the pantry table. Everyone rushed back and negotiated their exchange. I was left with a jar of peanut butter, some powdered sugar, a box of cocoa, a stick of butter, and a pint of milk.
I grabbed
it all up and went straight to work. There were two candy thermometers that were passed around by the others. I quickly melted the butter and peanut butter together, then stirred in the powdered sugar for a peanut butter fudge base. I scored it and put it in the refrigerator. All that was left to do was to create a fudgy ganache. Once I made that I added a top layer and then ran a hot butter knife through it to swirl the two fudges together.
“Five minutes!” was announced. The two girls had squabbled over the candy thermometer. Neither one had it long enough to ensure their fudge was at the right temperature. The two guys worked together and had their fudges done and plated. I melted a bit of the ganache and drizzled it on the plate and then put a pyramid stack of three fudge pieces on the plate.
“Five, four, three, two, one—Stop!”
I raised my hands to show that I had indeed gotten my fudge to the judge’s table.
Chef Thomas looked them all over for a scoring of presentation. He quizzed us on our choices. Finally came the taste test. Peter held up the first piece of my fudge, when the associate producer came running onto the set.
“Don’t eat anything!” He smacked the piece of fudge out of Peter’s hand.
“What? Why?”
I thought Peter was going to deck Brian for smacking the candy out of his hand.
“It’s been confirmed. Cathy was killed by poisoned fudge.”
Rose’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge
5 cups milk chocolate chips
2 tablespoons butter
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 bag of peanut butter chips (2 cups)
Butter an 8” x 8” x 2” pan. Line with wax paper or parchment paper.
In a double boiler, melt milk chocolate chips, butter, and sweetened condensed milk until smooth. Be careful not to burn.
Remove from heat. Add vanilla and stir until incorporated. Pour half of the fudge into the prepared pan. Layer peanut butter chips. Cover chips with the remainder of the fudge. Cool. Refrigerate overnight. Remove from pan. Cut into pieces. Store in a covered container.
CHAPTER 21
“We need to take apart the pantry and check all the ingredients to ensure the poison didn’t come from something we had on set,” Brian said. He held his hands out and down to make his point. “Deep breath, everyone. Officer Rex Manning requested that they take samples from all the pantry stock and check out the pots and pans.”
“It’s going to ruin our shoot,” the director argued. “We only have thirteen days left to make this series. We can’t stop shooting just because a woman was poisoned.”
“We can shoot without the taste test,” Peter suggested as he wiped the candy residue from his fingers. “Then edit it so it looks as if we tasted it.”
“Good, good, go with that,” the director said and moved the cameras into close-up position.
Peter continued with his critique as if he had really tried the fudges. When he got to me, his eyes narrowed and his voice got low. “Pat-in-pan fudge is not real fudge, is it, Miss McMurphy?”
“As long as it’s labeled pat-in-pan it can be presented as fudge,” I argued. “Besides, the fun thing about making fudge at home is to know how to make it quick and easy.” I crossed my arms and waited to hear what he had to say about that.
“Pat-in-pan is a sucker trick when a chef doesn’t have the time to create real fudge. It is disqualified.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “I accept your opinion as a judge.”
“That said, the chocolate ganache fudge is the perfect blend of cocoa and cream. The combination is superb.”
Okay, so did he like it or hate it?
“You are all dismissed to the waiting room while I mull over my decisions.”
We left the room, filing over to the waiting set.
“I didn’t know you could make fudge with powdered sugar,” the first of the pair of blond women left in the competition said. “I’m Amber. Your fudge looked really easy.”
“It is easy,” I said and shrugged. “My Grammy taught me how to make it when I was in kindergarten. It’s a very good simple fudge to make when you don’t have time to make the real thing.”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what Chef Thomas decides,” said the other blonde. “I’m Erin and I’m hoping my contract is done. It creeps me out to think that Cathy’s dead.” She rubbed her forearms as if to ward off a chill.
“It has to be my time to go,” I said and yawned big. “Working two jobs is killing me.”
“Let’s hope not literally,” Amber said.
The director and camera crew shot footage of us awaiting our fate in the waiting room set. Thirty minutes later we were ushered back into the cook set and took our places on the appropriate Xs.
“Welcome back, candy makers,” Peter said. “It has been a tough time for everyone since the loss of Cathy. It has been decided that everyone will get a pass this week. Go home and come back fresh tomorrow and we will continue to find out which of you deserves the cut.”
“And done,” the director said. “Thanks everybody. Terrible day. I’m so glad you all are up to the challenge of continuing to shoot the show.”
“Do we have a choice?” I whispered to Erin.
She shrugged. I suppose my question was a moot point.
After dressing in my own clothing and washing the makeup off my face, I grabbed up my duffel and looked at the other two ladies. “Okay, I’m going to be a little superstitious. Last night I walked out alone and left Cathy. I refuse to leave anyone in the bathroom tonight.”
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Amber said and gathered up her stuff. “Come on, then, we’ll leave together.”
“Hey, wait one minute and I’ll come too,” Erin chimed in. “Trust me, I don’t want to be the one left for dead.” She threw her makeup in her duffel, and we all walked out together.
“That’s one less thing to be superstitious about,” I said.
Rex and Peter were waiting in the hallway.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag.
“Allie, Rex has some questions for you,” Peter said, his face solemn.
I drew my eyebrows together. “Okay. What’s up?”
“I’d rather we talked in private,” Rex said in full-on police mode.
“Oh, that can’t be good,” I said and walked to where he pointed.
“There’s a small conference room to the left. I’ll be in in a moment.”
“Sure, what about Amber and Erin?”
“They’re free to go.” He waved them down the hall.
“This is not looking good for me,” I muttered as he ushered me into the conference room.
“Have a seat. Can I get you some water?”
“Sure,” I said. “Wait—is this an interview? Do I need a lawyer?” A pain started to throb in my left temple. It was most likely caused by too much coffee and too little sleep. “I’m sure Frances can get her cousin over here in about a half an hour.”
“No.” Rex shook his head. “There’s just some things I need to clear up.”
“Sure,” I said as he left. “Great.” I sat down and put my duffel on the floor beside me. A glance at my watch told me it was only one AM. If this didn’t take long, I might be able to get back to the McMurphy in time to get five solid hours of sleep.
I closed my eyes for a minute to fight the pain. Then I put my head down on the conference table and was out.
I had this weird dream where a giant Saint Bernard was chasing me with a chipper-shredder machine. “No!” I woke up with surprise to realize I was still in the hotel conference room. I wiped the drool off my face and used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to clean up the small puddle of drool on the table.
I stretched and got up. “Hello, Rex, did you forget about me?” Sticking my head out into the hallway, I saw that no one was around. The hall lights were dimmed for nighttime, and the cast and crew had all gone home. “Hello?” No answer.
&n
bsp; This was crazy. I grabbed my duffel and walked out. Being nice and answering questions was one thing, hanging around to be interrogated was another. “You can call my lawyer,” I muttered and moved down the hallway.
There was a commotion outside the main lobby. I imagine the guests above that area weren’t too happy. After all, you paid a lot of money to stay on the island. In exchange you expected fresh air and a quiet, good night’s sleep.
I walked around the crowd and headed home. I’d learn soon enough what Rex wanted to tell me. I yawned as I walked down the street to Main and then walked up it to the McMurphy. Right now I needed my bed more than I needed another disaster.
Frances met me at the back door to the McMurphy. “Oh, good, there you are,” she said and opened the door. “Come in. Did anyone see you leave?”
“What? No, I don’t think so. Rex brought me into a conference room and promised to be right back. I fell asleep, and since he didn’t keep his promise, I left.”
“Good. Don’t talk to anyone. My cousin William is on his way over.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They found the skull of the person in the mulch.” Frances walked with me up to the apartment. “That’s probably what Rex originally wanted to talk to you about.”
“Originally?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, they just found Chef Thomas lying in a heap on the ground next to the Grand Hotel. The EMTs are working on him.”
“Oh, my God, not Peter.” I dropped my duffel on the landing. “Is he okay? I need to see him.”
“He’s unconscious but alive.” Frances held me by the arms. “They’re flying him to the hospital in Mackinac City.”
“I want to go with him,” I protested.
“You can’t,” Frances said and took me by the hand and led me upstairs. “You have to stay here and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”